


the mercy of the atmosphere

by joshuamericano



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A sprinkle of canon, Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Blood, but like one-sided enemies, just a lil nosebleed that's all, ushiwaka and shouyou as college teammates what will they do, you love hinata shouyou! and YOU love hinata shouyou! and YOU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26122903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joshuamericano/pseuds/joshuamericano
Summary: Everybody loves Hinata Shouyou, except for his college volleyball teammate Wakatoshi.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 29
Kudos: 367





	the mercy of the atmosphere

**Author's Note:**

> [(you're a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my hometown)](%E2%80%9C0AfbBhKgt4wENzYK7S1wGe%E2%80%9D)
> 
> some stories require careful planning and developing before writing. some stories seize you by the wrist and force you to type until it's finished. this is the latter kind of story.
> 
> thank you to theangryblob for beta reading this story, and to all my friends on hq twt who encouraged me to write this, let me scream about my ushihina brain rot, and did writing sprints with me when i got stuck. this is my first published story in three years, and it wouldn't be possible without you.

_Once there was a shock_ _  
__that left behind a long, shimmering comet tail._ _  
__It keeps us inside. It makes the TV pictures snowy._ _  
__It settles in cold drops on the telephone wires._ _  
__  
__-After A Death, Tomas Transtr_ _ö_ _mer  
  
_

* * *

  
Hinata Shouyou, former Karasuno high school volleyball player, college first year and athlete, receiver of love letters and confessions of devotion. A nuisance in the eyes of his teammate, Ushijima Wakatoshi. 

Wakatoshi observes from across the cafeteria as Atsumu approaches Shouyou’s table, slides into the seat next to him, and slips an envelope into the pocket of his backpack while he’s not looking. Yesterday, it was a crow keychain from digital media student Kozume. Last week, a stray owl’s feather that Koutarou found on campus. 

They collect at his table with countless nameless others, sitting as close to him as possible even if not sitting next to him. The midday sun pours in from the tall windows of the cafeteria and shines on Shouyou like a spotlight, a halo of dust particles floating around him, an atmosphere made just for him. Wherever he goes, it’s his planet, and everyone else simply occupies it. 

This annoys the shit out of Wakatoshi. 

“Are you alright, Wakatoshi-kun?” Satori leans forward and looks in the same direction as his companion. Wakatoshi’s stare is so laser-focused it could burn.“You look like you’re going to murder someone.”

“Hm?” The intensity in Wakatoshi’s face dissipates. “It was nothing. I was just thinking.”

Satori smiles, amused. “That sounds dangerous. Don’t do too much of that.”

“You should try it sometime, Satori.” Eita takes a long sip from his thermos. “It could really improve the quality of your life.”

“The quality of my life is just perfect, thank you.” Satori says. 

Wakatoshi tunes them out, focusing on Shouyou’s table again. Satori isn’t wrong, to some extent. Wakatoshi thinking deeply about anything other than the next college volleyball game did not entail good things. He couldn’t waste time in his headspace for that long unless something was really, _really_ bothering him. 

Shouyou cracks a joke, inaudible to Wakatoshi, especially as it’s followed by an eruption of laughter from his table. It echoes throughout the cafeteria, bounces off the walls erratically. Shouyou is grinning from ear to ear with enthusiasm. The light catches his amber eyes, and they flicker like sparklers. All of this pride, all this attention, and for _what?_

Wakatoshi clenches his jaw. Shouyou is really, _really_ bothering him.  
  


* * *

  
“Hinata-san’s going to _your_ college?”

Reon, one of Wakatoshi’s three apartment roommates, is video-calling his boyfriend Hayato following dinner that day. Satori and Eita are sprawled out on the ground and scrolling through their phones. Wakatoshi is trying to finish some of his homework at his desk, yet he can’t help but overhear the video call. According to Reon, it’s their first time getting to talk to each other since the semester started.

“Yeah, we’ve seen him around.” Reon says. “He’s nice. And he’s already gotten pretty popular.”

“He started playing on the college volleyball team, too.” Eita adds, draping one leg over Satori’s. 

“Whoa. So he’s on the same team as Wakatoshi now?” 

Wakatoshi knew something like this would happen eventually, ending up on the same team as someone who used to be his opponent. Working together as a team is the quickest way to improve and achieve victory, which means there’s little room for holding grudges, especially as adults. For that reason, Wakatoshi seldom holds grudges, if at all. 

But Shouyou...

“Yeah.” Reon says. “Crazy, isn’t it?” 

“Totally. Man, those were the days.” Hayato reflects like a proud father. 

“Teammates or not,” Satori chimes in, “I think Wakatoshi-kun still wants to crush Shorty.” 

Right as he said that, the internet connection cut out for a moment, causing the call to glitch. After a few minutes of Eita and Satori repeating, “Can you hear us?” and “Is it working on your end?” over and over, the connection returns. 

“So where were we?” Hayato says. “We were talking about Wakatoshi and Hinata-san. I think Wakatoshi should just tell him how he feels.”

The room falls silent. They can hear the outside ambience, cars driving by, street lights buzzing, people yelling. It makes Wakatoshi’s ears ring. 

“Hayato, that’s a bad idea.” Reon says. 

“Agreed.” Eita says. “That would be a _very_ bad idea.”

“Oh come on, you guys!” Hayato says, voice distorted as the connection is still recovering. “We’re adults now. We should be upfront and honest about how we feel towards the people we care about.”

“...Care about?” Satori furrows his brows in confusion. “Hayato, where are you going with-”

“Listen, if Wakatoshi wants to take Hinata-san out on a date, he should just ask. And he better do it sooner than later.” 

Wakatoshi grips his pencil until his knuckles are white. Satori presses his lips shut. Eita and Reon don’t say a word. 

Satori laughs nervously. “Oh, Hayato-kun, you old man! You must have misheard me earlier. I didn’t say Wakatoshi-kun _had_ a crush on him. I said he wanted to crush him. Like, hurt him in some way.” 

“I don’t intend to inflict pain on Hinata Shouyou.” Wakatoshi says. 

“Well, I hope I can visit sometime and watch one of your games.” Hayato says. “Reon, how has tutoring been?”

Reon rolls his eyes. “Don’t even get me started.” 

Wakatoshi looks through his notes. It’s been an hour, and he’s only taken notes on one page out of the fifteen he has to read. He sighs and loosens his grip on his pencil. 

The pencil is broken in half.   
  


* * *

  
In high school, Wakatoshi responded to his team’s monumental loss to Karasuno the way he responded to most things. He moved on from it. On the way back to the school campus, he thought about his parting words to his teammates, the advice he’d give, the items he’ll set out for a run the next morning when he returns to his dorm. No occasion, not even being shut out of Nationals in as a third year, could interrupt Wakatoshi’s persistent forward motion. 

He thought he’d forgotten about that match entirely. 

But seeing Shouyou mingling with the other teammates from across the gym fills him with a familiar sense of dread, something heavy on his shoulders. He tries to shake it off and joins Kiyoomi to warm up before practice. 

“They’re quite the pack of beasts over there, aren’t they?” Kiyoomi watches Shouyou’s small gathering of teammates with an expression of disgust. Having him with Koutarou, Atsumu, and Morisuke on the same team means the gym is never quiet, but they’re especially fired up today.

“Hm.” Wakatoshi doesn’t look. Not when the sight of Shouyou makes him seethe with animosity. 

There’s nowhere for him to hide this prickly feeling. He has enough to worry about at practice, the muscle fatigue from drills, making sure he’s well-rested and hydrated, constant pressure to remain in peak form. Wakatoshi holds himself responsible for his athletic performance _and_ sportsmanship. The best he can do, for now, is stick close to Kiyoomi or captain Aran, and avoid Shouyou unless they absolutely must interact. 

“Alright!” Coach claps his hands together to get everyone’s attention. “We’re having a scrimmage today. Four on four. We have a game coming up to prepare for, and I need everyone at their best, physically _and_ mentally.” 

Nothing puts Wakatoshi’s mind at ease like a volleyball match, even a practice match. He takes the opposite side of the net to Shouyou—Kiyoomi, Aran and Morisuke on his team, Koutarou, Atsumu and Motoya on Shouyou’s. Every split-second decision is broken down into tasks and sequences in Wakatoshi’s mind.

Dig, move, jump, spike. Repeat.

The opposite team rotates, and it’s Shouyou’s turn to serve. Wakatoshi relaxes, eases his shoulders. Shouyou has never had the most impressive serves. 

“Here I go!” Shouyou shouts before serving. Wakatoshi observes the ball carefully as it floats across the net, headed in his direction. _Shit_. He squats low to receive it. 

“Damn it.” He says. “It’s short.” 

“I’ve got it!” Morisuke follows up to make up for the shakiness of Wakatoshi’s dig, sending the ball in Kiyoomi’s direction. 

Wakatoshi tries to shake it off. He wants to call it a fluke, but that ball was definitely _targeted_ at him. If he takes the knee, he has less of a chance of spiking. 

Hinata Shouyou, thinking through his actions and following through with his plans. What a concept. What an adjustment. 

“Wakatoshi!” Aran sends the ball in Wakatoshi’s direction. Aran is no setter, but the position is _perfect_. Koutarou and Shouyou are on the other side, ready to block him.

No matter. Wakatoshi has confidence in the path set forth for his spike. His eyes are always looking for the next course of action, and this one couldn’t be more clear. 

Wakatoshi grins to himself. The feeling of pride after powering through a wall on the other side never gets old. He hears the _thud_ of the ball sailing right through the block, hitting the ground with forceful impact. 

Followed by a scream. 

“Shouyou-kun, holy _shit!_ ” Koutarou kneels down to eye level with Shouyou, who’s fallen on his backside, holding one hand over his face. “Are you okay? Can you see me? Did you die?”

Atsumu, Motoya, and Aran surround Shouyou to check on him. Morisuke leaps past Kiyoomi to join them. Wakatoshi watches as Shouyou lifts his hand off his face, and a stream of crimson red drips down to his chin. 

“Wakatoshi-kun, did you spike that directly to his face?” Kiyoomi says. 

It occurs to Wakatoshi that he _might_ have overestimated the clarity of that path set forth for his spike. At least, he doesn’t remember Shouyou’s face being in the way. 

_Fuck._

“I’m okay, you guys.” Shouyou says, panting heavily, eyes watering, blood on his hand and face. “I’m a little dizzy, but I think I’m alright.” 

“Yeah, we’re done.” Aran helps Shouyou to his feet. “You should still see a nurse, just to make sure the nosebleed is the worst of it. Does anyone have any tissues?” 

Wakatoshi bolts off the court to his duffel bag, unzipping it and digging around to find the pack of small tissues he keeps in there. He thinks he should say something, but all he can think is _shit, shit, shit, shit._ The dread stewing in the pit of his stomach, the feeling he tried to put aside during practice, sits inside of him like a brick. 

This isn’t the first time he’s injured someone with one of his spikes. Hell, this isn’t the first time he’s hit Shouyou in the face specifically. But the thought of running as fast as he can out of this gym, away from this campus, crosses his mind. 

He approaches Shouyou in the middle of the teammates’ circle with a wad of tissues in his hand. “Take these.” _Shit, shit, shit…_

“Damn, Ushiwaka.” 

Shouyou looks up and locks eyes with Wakatoshi. The eye contact connects them like an invisible thread that the sharpest knife couldn’t sever. Their fingertips brush as Shouyou takes a few tissues and roughly wipes the blood off his upper lip and chin. It stains his skin and sticks to the corner of his lip, like a carnivore after finishing off its prey, consumption in its most primal form. Darkness overcasts his face, but his eyes are on fire. He’s still hungry. Wakatoshi can’t look away. 

“You looked so cool up there.” Shouyou smiles in a way that’s a touch sinister. He balls up one of the tissues and plugs his nose with it. 

Aran does a double take and holds his arm a little tighter. “Okay, we’re going to take you to see the nurse _now_ .”   
  


* * *

  
On the way back to his apartment after practice, Wakatoshi gets a text from Kenjirou, who’s interning for the campus nurse’s office. _Rest easy tonight, you didn’t break his nose_. The text says. _No concussion either. But he’ll probably bruise._

Kenjirou accidentally sent these messages to the Shiratorizawa alumni group chat, meaning Wakaoshi’s roommates already knew what happened before he returned. They find this _very_ entertaining. 

“It was only a matter of time before you were gonna clobber Shorty, huh?” Satori says. “Your strength has never wavered, as I expected of you, Wakatoshi-kun.”

Wakatoshi doesn’t respond. He washes up, gets ready for bed. He’s thinking about turning in homework, about breakfast tomorrow. About Shouyou and his voracious appetite. For a second, he thought he might be devoured. 

Aran meets Wakatoshi at campus the next day to confirm what he already knows. “The nurse told him he’ll probably have to miss the next few practices.” He says. “She wants to make sure he’s fully healed before he plays again.”

Wakatoshi nods, so slight it could be mistaken for a twitch. 

“Accidents happen.” Aran says. “This wasn’t your fault.” 

“Ojiro-san, I’d like your help on improving my spikes at our next practice.”

Aran tilts his head to the side. “Uh...sure.”

Wakatoshi looks at Aran dead in the eye. “At yesterday’s practice, I didn’t see Hinata-san in the way. I didn’t even notice the ball hit him until after the fact. I need to work on my accuracy.” 

“That’s one way to go about it.” Aran says. “But yeah, I can help you later.”

Wakatoshi is so set on making it to his 9:30 class that the weight of the situation doesn’t hit him until he reaches the entrance of the main campus building. A small crowd is blocking part of the entryway. They’re all surrounding Shouyou, who’s wearing a wide bandage on his nose, but every part of his demeanor is unchanged. 

Wakatoshi considers skipping school today. 

He grits his teeth as he approaches the entry, the crowd that seems to part as he walks closer. Nowhere to move but forward. His fists are clenched at his side, face set in a stony neutral expression, as he faces Shouyou. To have him look back, eyes staring right through him, is like looking directly at the sun. It hurts his face a little. 

“Hinata Shouyou.” He says. “I hope you heal soon. I’ll see you at practice after then.”

The tension in the air is thick, tactile. Wakatoshi wishes he could grab it and snap it in half with his bare hands. He can hear some whispers in the crowd, some of them wondering if he’s about to start a fight. 

Shouyou beams right back at him with full confidence. “I’ll see you there.” 

* * *

  
At practice, the gym feels gigantic. All of the instinctive paths Wakatoshi usually takes to avoid Shouyou feel like running around in circles. So much navigating around empty space. Most of the day is drills, murmured exchanges, uncomfortable quiet. 

He joins Kiyoomi and Morisuke at the end of practice to collect the volleyballs around the room. Kiyoomi’s expression is darker than usual. He’s only more aggravated in Shouyou’s absence. 

“Everyone’s so mopey today.” He says. “It’s disturbing.” 

“Well no shit, Kiyoomi.” Morisuke says. “Wakatoshi nearly murdered one of our teammates.” For some reason, Morisuke criticizing Wakatoshi gives him a sense of ease, like everything in the world is as it should be.

“It was an accident, Yaku-san.” Kiyoomi places a ball into the equipment box. “Besides, it’s not like Hinata-san’s form is very elegant.”

“Hinata-san’s form has improved since the last time we played together.” 

Kiyoomi and Morisuke look at Wakatoshi like he just admitted to committing a crime. “You mean in high school?” Morisuke says.

“He still has room for improvement,” Wakatoshi says, “but he can think as quickly as he can run. He understands his placement on the court better than he used to, so he makes fewer missteps.”

There’s dead silence for a full minute. The only sound is incoherent conversation from Koutarou and Atsumu, echoing from the other side of the room. 

“...Are you complimenting Hinata-san?” Kiyoomi says. 

“We have to build up our teammates to build up our team as a whole.” Wakatoshi grabs three balls and puts them away. 

“Those are the longest sentences I think I’ve heard you speak.” Morisuke says. “I didn’t realize you observed him that closely. I thought you were trying to stay as far away from him as possible.”

“But he still watches him.” Kiyoomi says. “Am I wrong?”

“You’re not.” 

“Why him of all people?” Kiyoomi squints at Wakatoshi, his gaze as sharp as a threat. “Unless....”

Wakatoshi and Kiyoomi stare at each other. Morisuke stands between them, witnessing the kind of nonverbal communication that two people develop when they’ve been companions since middle school.

A light switches on in Wakatoshi’s mind. The tiniest flicker. 

“No.”

“Unless.” 

“ _No_.” 

Morisuke pipes up before the other two can speak. “Oh, you like Shouyou, don’t you?”

Wakatoshi thought he could be spared of the dread he usually experiences with Shouyou in practice, but it returns at this moment, stuck in a wad in his throat. It plummets to the pit of his stomach and sits there, churning.

Wakatoshi returns to cleanup, walking his way around thin air. “I don’t like what you’re implying.” 

“I’m not saying you’re gonna date him.” Morisuke says. “Although, if you want to—”

“I don’t.”

Kiyoomi scowls. “Ew.” 

“But you admit that you admire him in some way.” Morisuke gives Wakatoshi an all-knowing, all-seeing look. 

Wakatoshi thinks back to Shouyou at lunch amid his crowd of admirers, attached to his every word. The praise he receives, the gifts he’s given, the way he fills the room with his presence.

His laugh. His smile. His rays of light. 

“Everybody admires him.” Wakatoshi’s jaw clenches. He’s ready to leave. 

“Oh, I see what you’re trying to—Atsumu, you bastard, I could hear that!” Morisuke sprints across the gym floor to tackle Atsumu. Kiyoomi and Wakatoshi watch the scene as Atsumu begs for mercy and Morisuke gives him none. 

“God, he gets on my nerves.” Kiyoomi says. 

“You don’t like Yaku-san?” Wakatoshi says. 

Kiyoomi lets out a labored sigh. “I can tell he watches me whenever he thinks I’m slacking off. I don’t like it. Although his form and defensive skills are impeccable.” 

“So you’ve noticed him?”

“Who doesn’t?” 

“I must not be the only one, then.”

“The only one…?”

“Who admires someone on our team.” 

“Wakatoshi-kun, I’ll kill you.”   
  


* * *

  
Wakatoshi makes it a priority to avoid the main campus as much as humanly possible. To linger on campus means he’ll run into Shouyou, or someone who knows him, or someone who’s particularly concerned about his nose. The thought of it, being reminded of his slip-up in practice, hearing about Shouyou again and again, is exhausting.

He eats lunch at his apartment alone, reheating some ready-made soup that Satori bought. All of the avenues he takes for the sake of avoidance make his world feel smaller. He wonders how long he could keep this up. 

Satori shows up later that afternoon. His homework is shoved haphazardly into the binder he’s carrying in one hand, and he has a bag of candies in the other. 

“Well, _someone_ was a no-show at lunch today!” He says. “You didn’t miss a thing. Reon-kun talked about Hayato-kun a ton, and everyone’s still giving their condolences to Shorty.”

“I see.” Wakatoshi says.

They sit on their beds for a while and exchange afternoon plans. Satori is sticking around to study, or at least make an attempt. Wakatoshi might go for a run. 

“You skipped town today because of Shorty, didn’t you?” Satori says. “I didn’t think you cared that much.”

“I don’t.” Wakatoshi says. “I’m just off today.” 

“To be honest with you, Wakatoshi-kun, you’ve seemed bent out of shape ever since the semester started.” Satori yawns and stretches his arms out. “Ever since Shorty showed up and stole everyone’s hearts. And you’re not one to bend.”

Wakatoshi turns to Satori. “I don’t bend at anyone’s will.” 

“Here, have some sugar.” Satori pulls a gummy from his bag and hands it to Wakatoshi. “These are peach-flavored.” 

Wakatoshi takes one and pops it into his mouth. They taste mild and soothing with an artificial sour bite. “Tendou-san, where did you get these?” 

“...Shit.” 

“Is something wrong?” 

Satori gulps. “Shorty gave them to me.”

“Oh. Okay.” Wakatoshi starts to take out his running gear.

Satori backpedals like his life depends on it. “I mean, I just happened to visit the vending machine at the same time he did, and he accidentally got two of these instead of one, and you know I can’t resist someone giving out free food—”

“I have no problem with you and Shouyou being amicable with each other, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Wakatoshi pulls out his sneakers and ties them tight. “It’s not my business who you acquaint yourself with.” 

His words say _none of my business,_ but the dark aura emitting so strongly off of him that it’s almost visible says otherwise. 

He is beyond bothered by Shouyou.

Wakatoshi is _pissed.  
  
_

* * *

  
Running does not clear his head. 

It never has.

Yet, since he was a child, restlessness danced under his skin if he stayed put in one place for too long. It’d make him fidget and itch like mad. His dad challenged him to run laps around the house and see how many he could run. He did this often and started keeping count. Five, ten, twenty—he ran faster, for longer, each time. His record was one hundred and twelve laps around the house in middle school.

Volleyball takes up most of his time and stamina, but lately, his unsettled nerves make him want to run up the fucking walls, all the way to to where it meets the ceiling. The thought of Shouyou, his baseless confidence, the attention he receives, the flickering in his eyes—

No. No thoughts. Wakatoshi’s feet hit the sidewalk pavement a little harder. There is only the ground that supports him, the chill in the breeze, the rush of his stride. Moving on to the next thing. Persistent forward motion. 

For a moment, Wakatoshi can breathe easily. 

“ _Ushiwaka!_ ”

He recognizes that gleeful tone of voice anywhere. _Not now._

Sure enough, when Wakatoshi turns around, Shouyou is charging at him at a breakneck pace. The school bag over his shoulder is bouncing off his side like it might fly off of him. He’s holding a bouquet of orange gerbera daisies wrapped in crinkly iridescent cellophane. 

“Ushiwaka! Are you on a run? Going somewhere? Where ya headed?” His words move as fast as his feet do. It’s dizzying. 

“You’re supposed to be resting.” Wakatoshi says. 

“I’ve been resting lots today!” Shouyou huffs. “It’s just that someone gave me flowers earlier today, and they look really nice, but I don’t have anything to put them in. Kenma-san told me about a shop that sells some vases and other stuff that isn’t far from the school. He also gave me six thousand yen, for some reason.”

“I see.” Wakatoshi’s nerves are buzzing, aggravated.

“Do you wanna come with me?” Shouyou says, bouncing a little on his toes. There’s expectation in his expression, a fist clenched around his bouquet. Another request, unspoken. 

_Race me there._

“Okay.” Wakatoshi says. “Show me the way there.” 

Shouyou smiles wide and gets a charging head start. It takes maybe three steps in Wakatoshi’s stride to catch up with him. A blip in Wakatoshi’s mind tells him he probably should not be trying to outrun the teammate whose nose he almost broke. He glances at Shouyou out of the corner of his eye.

Shouyou is soaring. His feet barely hit the ground with every step. Age and time have mellowed him, but he still has the energy of a metal spring toy that kids like to push down the stairs. The visible trail he leaves behind makes Wakatoshi want to run further, faster, to outrun him.

They turn the corner somewhere along the path, then another corner, then another. Wakatoshi notices how the sky is cloudless and dome-like, how strong the sun is for the end of September. How much brighter all the colors are. The way Shouyou looks in the light, invisible wings and wind currents bearing his weight. Like they’ve stumbled into another world. 

It doesn’t take long to find the shop Shouyou was talking about, but he bolts far past it. Wakatoshi has to go retrieve him. “Ha!” Shouyou’s smile is bright like a lens flare. “I beat you to it!”

“You missed it.” Wakatoshi walks back with him to the shop. It’s a tiny corner of a shop, filled with more items than people, stationery and candles and pottery. For once, Wakatoshi’s build puts him at a disadvantage. He could probably knock down a whole shelf of valuable items if he bumped it wrong with his hip bone.

“Oh, this one looks nice!” Shouyou’s already found a shelf of jars and pottery, and immediately bumps it with his knee. A few small vases rumble before one approaches the edge a little too close and plummets from its spot. “Oh, sh—”

Out of reflex, Wakatoshi reaches his hand out to catch it. It’s heavier than he anticipated, the grip on it unstable, threatening to fall right off and smash into pieces. Luckily for him, the vase does not meet its unfortunate end on the hardwood floor. 

Wakatoshi isn’t holding the vase. He’s holding Shouyou’s hand.

Shouyou is in a deep lunge, foot stepped out to his side. His arm strains to keep the vase upright. They look at the vase, then each other, then the vase again. Wakatoshi’s palm encompasses almost the entirety of Shouyou’s hand. His hand lingers for a second too long, grasp softening, like holding something precious. 

Wakatoshi pulls his hand away as Shouyou puts the vase back. “Don’t break anything here.”

“I won’t!” Shouyou whispers, tone sharp. “That was an accident.” He picks it up again and peeks at the price underneath it. “Could have been a really expensive one, too.” 

Wakatoshi follows him while they check the whole shelf. Shouyou turns over more small vases and checks their prices. His expression is more and more discouraged the more he checks. He revisits a burnt orange bottle vase not much larger than the size of his hand.

“I think this is the only one I can afford.” Shouyou stares at the vase. “But it’s not big enough to fit all the flowers.”

“Hm.” Wakatoshi looks at the vase. Or the grooves in Shouyou’s fingertips. One of the two.

Shouyou turns to Wakatoshi. “Ushiwaka, do you want some of the flowers? It’s fine if you don’t.”

Whether Wakatoshi has room for flowers, or anything to put them in, he doesn’t know. 

“I can take them.” 

Shouyou pays for the vase after fifteen minutes of searching his pockets for his wallet. They’re the longest fifteen minutes of Wakatoshi’s life so far. He’s itching to take off running. 

Outside the entrance of the shop, Shouyou pulls a few daisies from the bouquet and hands them to Wakatoshi. “Well, I’ll see you when I return to practice.”

Wakatoshi holds the daisies with a stiff hand. Parting ways this abruptly isn’t right.

“Hinata Shouyou.” Wakatoshi says. “Before you leave. I never gave you a proper apology about the other day.”

Shouyou is taken aback. “Oh, that’s fine. Accidents happen. I’m sure you didn’t mean anyth—” 

“I haven’t been as cooperative as I should be as your teammate.” Wakatoshi continues. “Your injury is a result of that. I want to be more careful going forward, but more importantly, I want to be someone who can effectively support their team. That includes you, too.” The words make his throat burn. 

“Well then,” Shouyou says, “I’ll make sure to be a player worth supporting.”

With that, Wakatoshi pivots on his left foot and takes off for his apartment. Clouds start gathering overhead, and the slight mid-afternoon breeze is now a chilling wind that bites at his hands. The image of Shouyou running at his side is ingrained into his vision. His world feels smaller.

Upon returning, Wakatoshi searches the kitchen for a glass to put the flowers in. He uses the scissors from his desk to trim the stems and fills the glass with water before putting the flowers in. Satori peeks his head into the kitchen. 

“Wakatoshi-kun, someone gave you flowers?!” He says. “They’re so pretty!” 

“Someone gave Hinata-san a bouquet.” Wakatoshi places the glass on his desk. “He couldn’t keep all the flowers, so he gave a couple to me.”

“...I see.” Satori grins like a little kid keeping a secret.

“What do you see?” 

“Nothing. Those flowers make the place look a little brighter, don’t they?”

Satori leaves to show up fifteen minutes late to class. He left the last of his peach gummies sitting on his bed. Wakatoshi takes the bag, sits in his own bed, and eats the last of them. He stares at the daisies, reminded of radiance.   
  


* * *

  
Wakatoshi stops dodging Shouyou at practice. He has to ignore his usual routes, his pointless circles, the ones he learned until they became a reflex. It takes much less time to move around the gym when he allows himself to be in Shouyou’s presence for a split second. 

When Shouyou jams his finger on an ill-timed spike, Wakatoshi volunteers to tape his fingers for him. He doesn’t listen to the other teammates teasing Shouyou about how injury-prone he is. Or Shouyou retorting that this was just an accident, a result of rushing before thinking. He uses this opportunity to study Shouyou’s hand, however brief. 

He’s already familiar with his knuckles, their imprint on his palm from the day Shouyou bought the vase for his daisies. As he wraps tape around Shouyou’s ring and pinky fingers, his eyes study their structure, the ridges, the small bluish-purple veins under his skin. He wants to study every other finger with the same closeness, find his way to his palms, wrap around his wrists. 

Shouyou’s return earns the volleyball team a triumphant win at their game, blazing through the five sets with flying—soaring—colors. Wakatoshi has yet to learn how to celebrate victories with his opponent standing on the same side of the net as him. But Shouyou on fire is nothing short of dazzling. 

In the rush of their celebratory chaos, Shouyou leaps onto Wakatoshi’s back, clinging on to his neck and sides with his arms and legs. “Did you see me in that last set?” He says. “I rushed to the other side like _whoosh_ , and their #4 went to spike it like _bam!—_ ” 

Shouyou’s speech is incomprehensible to Wakatoshi, but he still listens to him as he hoists him up farther on his back and carries him to the bus. 

“Now what’s this?” Atsumu walks beside Wakatoshi, eyes locked on Shouyou. “Shouyou-kun, were your legs too short to keep up with our Wakatoshi-kun?” 

“Shut up, Miya-san.” Kiyoomi turns around to glare at Atsumu. “You’re just saying that because _you_ wanted to carry him on your back, like you did at our last game.”

“Omi-kun, would you let me live for _one_ moment in your life?” Atsumu says. 

Kiyoomi grins. “Never.” 

Wakatoshi dozes off on the bus ride to a nearby restaurant after the game. Shouyou shakes his knee to wake him when they’re near. Wakatoshi blinks a few times and sees that Shouyou’s jacket is draped over him. It falls off his shoulders and crumples into his lap when he readjusts himself. 

“C’mon, Ushiwaka.” Shouyou says. “You’ve gotta be awake to eat.” 

“Mhm.” Wakatoshi nods, taking Shouyou’s jacket in his hand. “You can have this back.”

Coach has reserved the largest table in the restaurant for the team, plus a few others joining them, like Coach’s wife and son, and Aran’s boyfriend Shinsuke. Wakatoshi and Shouyou sit together for the first time. Shouyou is as outgoing and chatty as ever with the rest of the table while Wakatoshi quietly eats his dinner and watches the others. Aran and Shinsuke sit across from him, Shinsuke’s head resting on Aran’s shoulder. Kiyoomi and Morisuke are sitting closer together than Kiyoomi would ever let anyone sit near him. Koutarou is talking Atsumu’s ear off, and Atsumu’s face looks tired and a little vacant. 

Most of all, he watches Shouyou, engaged in a conversation with Motoya about the game. He talks with his whole body; his hands, his facial expressions, the slight bounce in his seat when he’s excited. Wakatoshi studies every movement. 

“And Ushiwaka,” Shouyou pats his back, “looked so damn cool and the end of the third set! You were amazing tonight!” 

Wakatoshi looks at Shouyou, eyes glimmering. It’s a familiar look, one that Wakatoshi could only catch from a distance. One that used to irritate him. 

“You did well too.” Wakatoshi says. 

He’s withdrawn in his thoughts for most of the night, watching Shouyou and his face and his mannerisms, the way he interacts with everyone and doesn’t leave a single person out. He makes himself familiar with every gesture that used to get on his nerves. He lets Shouyou sleep on his shoulder when they’re driving back to the main campus. 

A few days later, Shouyou invites him last-minute to the library, where he needs to check out a specific book on nutrition science. With two hours to spare before another class, Wakatoshi agrees to tag along. He picks up a field guide on insects and sits across from Shouyou at a small table beside the windows. His eyes go back and forth between reading the book and watching how the morning sun makes Shouyou glow so soft. 

“What are you staring at?” Shouyou says, his voice a little sleepy. 

His words are a jolt back into the present. “Was I staring? I’m sorry.” 

Shouyou laughs, glows brighter. “It’s alright. I don’t mind it.”

After some time sitting in comfortable silence, reading, studying, Shouyou has to leave. Before he does, he places his hand on top of Wakatoshi’s, leans in so close that he can feel his lips brush against his ear. The proximity makes Wakatoshi’s insides flutter a little.

“Thanks for coming with me.” Shouyou whispers. “I really liked this. I like hanging out with you.” 

He stays this way for a minute. Wakatoshi stares at his face. He doesn’t have the time to take in all of Shouyou at this closeness, but he wishes he did. Shouyou lingers, fingertips dragging over the back of Wakatoshi’s hand, before he stands up and walks away. 

When Wakatoshi returns to his apartment, he checks on the gerbera daisies at his desk first thing. He changes out the water, trims off any wilting leaves, trims the stems when they need it. He looks at them while he’s studying sometimes. He feels the softness of their petals between his fingers. 

This is how Wakatoshi relearns Shouyou. He watches him with intent, a methodical approach. He observes him with utmost care and consideration. 

His world expands.   
  


* * *

  
Shouyou has begged Wakatoshi at practice to go on another run with him ever since they bought a vase together, and finally, Wakatoshi gives. They agree to meet outside of the main campus on a late Saturday afternoon. Shouyou is seven minutes late, but Wakatoshi can see him sprinting down the sidewalk like he’s running away from a pack of wolves.

“Ushiwaka! Hey!” Shouyou skids to a stop. “Sorry I’m late. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and got lost at some point. But I’m here now! Hi.” 

“Hi.” Wakatoshi says. “Don’t waste all of your energy so early on. You just got here.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about that!” Shouyou says. “I had a great night’s sleep last night, and I could run for a hundred miles today!” 

“We’re not running that far.” Wakatoshi’s getting restless. “Do you have a destination in mind?”

“Well, we could visit the Green Space.” Shouyou says. “We’d get a good run in both ways, but it’s not too far from here.” 

“Hm.” Wakatoshi nods. “I’ve never been there before.”

“ _Never_?” 

“Never.” _Race me there_. 

“Oh. In that case, I can show you the way!” And Shouyou takes off. 

Wakatoshi and Shouyou race each other across campus, their strides fighting the brisk wind. It’s gotten colder since they last ran together, the air tinged blue, trees just starting to turn red and gold. Wakatoshi doesn’t mind the chill, doesn’t even notice it with the waves of adrenaline ripping through his veins. Running with Shouyou makes Wakatoshi abandon his attentiveness to form or personal records. They’re two kids in the same neighborhood dashing after the same finish line carved in the dirt. 

At their speed, it’s not long before they reach the Green Space. There are numerous green spaces, plots of grass and flora that the university created to encourage students to spend their time outside. But there’s only one that everybody calls the Green Space. It’s the largest of all of them, at the very west end of the main campus, distinguished by the grand evergreen oak tree in its center. From the looks of it, no one else is there today. 

Shouyou stops in front of the Green Space and puts his hands on his knees. “Okay,” he pants, “It’s a little...little farther than I thought. But we’re here!” He takes a few steps up into the grass and plops onto his back, feet flying up and hitting the ground. Wakatoshi sits beside him. 

“So, what do you think?” Shouyou says. 

“Hm?” Wakatoshi turns his head. 

“Of the Green Space?” 

“Oh. It’s very nice. Peaceful.”

“Yeah, that’s why I like it so much.” Shouyou puts his hands behind his head. “It’s a nice place for meditating, too.”

Wakatoshi never presumed Shouyou to be someone who meditates, or values quiet of any kind. He takes a mental note of it. “So you visit this place often?” 

“Mhm.” Shouyou says. “It’s my favorite place here. Besides the gym. And the cafeteria’s alright too. Although, the library…” He trails off on a wandering tangent. Wakatoshi listens, notices the afternoon light filtering through the leaves of the evergreen oak, illuminating Shouyou. The sun loves him. 

“Oh, and I like making phone calls here.” Shouyou continues. “I talk to Tadashi-kun and Hitoka-chan sometimes. Kei-kun doesn’t like talking on the phone, but we text sometimes. Tobio-kun too, although I don’t hear much from him these days.”

 _Tobio_. He remembers him and Shouyou trailing behind him when they first met on the streets in Sendai. The way they could keep up with his pace while bickering with each other over God knows what. 

“You don’t keep in touch?” Wakatoshi says.

“I think he’s just busy.” Shouyou says. “He went into the pro volleyball league right after graduating high school, even though he got a ton of scholarship offers. It makes sense, though. He’s that talented.”

“Hm.” Silence, for a moment. There’s only birds chirping, cars whirring by on the road beside the Green Space.

“Tobio-kun never told me he was going to the pro league.” 

Shouyou’s voice wavers. A crack in the exterior. 

“Do you miss him?” Wakatoshi says. 

“Sometimes.” Shouyou stares up at the sky, the tree branches. “But I try to keep up with his games and activities and stuff. He really is a star. Everybody loves him.” He smiles to himself. 

Wakatoshi’s studies of Shouyou, he realizes, have only scratched the surface. That small smile contains more underneath than he could ever fathom. 

Shouyou looks back at Wakatoshi. The eye contact makes Wakatoshi bristle. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean to go on about him.” Shouyou says. “I’m sure you don’t like to hear people talk about their other friends when you’re with them.”

“I don’t mind.” Wakatoshi says. He relaxes deeper into the grass, feels the individual blades brush against his arms and legs. The sunlight spares a few rays for him. He wishes he could bottle up this sense of tranquility and save it for himself. 

“I hear a lot of people come here to make out.” Shouyou says.

“Yes.”

“ _We_ could make out here, if you want.”

Any dormant cells in Wakatoshi’s brain are now wide awake. He glances at Shouyou, who’s trying his hardest to conceal the mischievous grin on his face. His eyes are flickering like sparklers again. If he had asked a month ago, Wakatoshi would have flat-out refused, no questions asked. 

Now, he’s reconsidering.

Everybody loves Hinata Shouyou. Why else would he have become so popular so quickly? He marches to the beat of his own drum, and everyone follows behind him in the same rhythm. He could talk with anyone he wanted, no matter their personality, and they’d fall for him in some small way. He’s outgoing, approachable, likable. 

But that can’t be all there is to him. There’s something _else_ that attracts everyone to Shouyou. Something unknown to Wakatoshi. Something intangible. 

Wakatoshi wants a taste for what that _something_ is.

“You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to.” Shouyou’s voice breaks Wakatoshi’s train of thought. Wakatoshi bites the inside of his lip. Why is he agonizing over this? This is college. People make out and hook up and get a little too involved with each other, and then they pretend they don’t know each other for the rest of their adult lives. So it goes. 

“I wouldn’t mind kissing you.” Wakatoshi says, at last. “I want to.”

Wakatoshi isn’t sure how to position himself, where to put his hands or turn his body. Shouyou laughs a little before leaning forward and planting his hands on either side of Wakatoshi. Their faces are mere inches apart. He’s never seen Shouyou up close like this, with such a clear view of the freckles across his nose and the shimmering gold in his eyes. 

Wakatoshi doesn’t remember what happens between then and kissing Shouyou. To kiss him is to dive head first from an airplane, to give in to the mercy of the atmosphere. He feels Shouyou’s nose press into his cheek, his lips ghosting the surface of Wakatoshi’s skin before settling.

Where Wakatoshi anticipates the same rushing, erratic energy he’s come to associate Shouyou with, he finds stillness. Shouyou’s kisses are slow, lingering, tugging at Wakatoshi’s lips with a quiet pull like gravity. Every nerve in Wakatoshi’s body is alert and aware of every sensation he’s experiencing: Shouyou’s hand lifted to cup Wakatoshi’s face, the pad of his thumb stroking his jaw, the flutter of his eyelashes, their short breaths between kisses before Shouyou sinks into Wakatoshi’s lips again. Kisses that say, _Stay here with me, and I will stay with you_. 

Shouyou is a burning planet, spinning in slow motion. Wakatoshi is a satellite drawing near to the surface. 

Any frustration Wakatoshi once felt for Shouyou melts from his body and slips through the cracks in his hands. With every kiss, Shouyou pours warmth directly into Wakatoshi’s mouth, pooling in his chest. Wakatoshi is tasting fire, tasting breaths of life. 

He pulls away from the kiss and looks directly at Shouyou’s face. His cheeks and the tips of his ears are bright red. His eyes have calmed, darkened like the surface of the earth. He lets out a heavy sigh and smiles. 

“So how was it?” Shouyou rests his chin on Wakatoshi’s chest. 

If there are words to describe how _that_ felt, Wakatoshi can’t find them. Not enough of them. Despite his heart rate easing back to normalcy, his head is spinning. There are so many thoughts, so much light in parts of his body he didn’t know existed. 

Wakatoshi laughs. “Good. I liked that.” 

Shouyou is caught off guard at the sight of Wakatoshi smiling. _Laughing_. His laugh could make a field of flowers bloom around him. 

“Well, if you still have the time...I mean, if you still want to…” Shouyou trips over his words, not nearly as direct as earlier. 

This time, Wakatoshi kisses Shouyou first. _  
  
_

* * *

  
It’s too damn cold to go outside, but there’s no other way to the gym. 

Wakatoshi is already watching the rainfall intensify outside, with no signs of letting up anytime soon. The gym is roughly 400 meters from the main campus, but on days like these, walking is nothing short of tortuous. He zips up his jacket as he rushes down the stairs from class to the first floor, braces himself for the raw sting of the outdoor air.

At the entrance—God, who else could be at the entrance?—Shouyou is in a conversation with Kozume, talking as much with his hands and whole body as he is with his words. Before Wakatoshi can pass by them, Shouyou reaches a hand out for Wakatoshi’s arm, eyes still locked on Kozume. 

“Before you go,” Kozume says, barely audible, “my roommate Tetsurou and some of his friends are gonna play Super Smash Bros at our apartment tomorrow. Do you wanna join us?”

“That sounds like so much fun!” Shouyou says. “But I have a test next week I have to study for, so I can’t go. I’m sorry.”

Kozume nods. “It’s fine. I understand.”

“We can get together another time, though.” Shouyou says. “I have to go to practice now, but I’ll text you later!”

“Sure.” Wakatoshi swears he can feel Kozume’s eyes on him. Maybe he’s imagining it. “I’ll see you later, Shouyou.” Kozume takes off in the opposite direction, shivering a little when a draft sweeps in from the door. 

“I’ll see you too!” Shouyou waves, then spins on foot and faces Wakatoshi. “Ushiwaka! Are you headed to practice too?”

“Mhm.” Wakatoshi nods. 

“Hold on a second.” Shouyou puts down his bag and unzips it, fishing around in it for some time. He pulls out a black umbrella. “I brought this when I saw the clouds this morning. We can share it.” 

Shouyou opens the umbrella while they’re leaving, only to realize that his arm’s reach won’t fit Wakatoshi underneath. “I can hold it if you want.” Wakatoshi grabs the handle of the umbrella, his hand wrapping around Shouyou’s like instinct. 

Something flickers inside of him—embers, the beginning of a fire. But not the fire that Shouyou usually sets off in Wakatoshi’s system. This is a whole other feeling entirely, something he can’t put his finger on. 

Before he can think about it any further, Shouyou is already on the move. The umbrella is doing very little to protect them from the rain, if anything at all. Wakatoshi does not notice or care because _holy shit_ , he is holding Shouyou’s hand for longer than three seconds. The whole of his hand entirely envelops Shouyou’s. His palms have retained the impression of Shouyou’s knuckles, etched into his nerve endings.

They hold hands the entire way to the gym. They don’t run; the rain would despise their stride. For once, Wakatoshi isn’t overcome with the desire to outrun Shouyou. He wants to remain at his side, to hold his hand for as long as he can. He doesn’t want to let go. 

Is this how everyone has felt about him this whole time? Is this what urged them to write him letters, give him gifts, bask in his light for as long as they could manage? This stirring, sparking feeling?

Who is Wakatoshi, then, but another admirer? 

When they reach the gym, Wakatoshi releases his grasp on Shouyou’s hand. Shouyou shakes out the umbrella before folding it up and putting it back in his bag. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t made time to see you outside of practice, by the way.” Shouyou says. 

“That’s fine.” Wakatoshi says. “It’s a busy time of year.”

“Do you have tests coming up too?” 

“I have two on the same day next week.”

“Do you wanna study together tomorrow?” Shouyou barely skips a heartbeat. “It can be my place or yours. I don’t mind.” 

_My place or yours._ Wakatoshi stops his thoughts before they run away from him into God knows where. “My roommates usually go out on the weekends, so it’ll be quiet.” He says. 

“That sounds perfect! We can study at your place, then.” Shouyou checks his phone. “Oh shit. We’re late.” 

The two of them hasten to get ready for practice and join warmups with the rest of their teammates. Wakatoshi showing up late to practice, inviting Shouyou to his apartment—he thought he’d never see the day. 

Kiyoomi is nothing less than disgusted at the sight of a tardy Wakatoshi. “I can’t believe Coach didn’t scold you for being late.” 

“I did walk through a downpour to get here.” Wakatoshi says. “And shouldn’t we be calling our coach by his surname?”

Kiyoomi shrugs. “Probably. But I’ve overheard his own son call him Coach. I think that’s just his thing.” He stops himself, then squints. “Are you trying to get me to not talk about the fact that you and Hinata-san walked here together?” 

“Did it work?”

“I saw you hold his hand.”

Uneasiness creeps under Wakatoshi’s skin. It’s not that he’s ashamed of being seen with Shouyou. But he wants to keep their shared moments to himself, just a little longer, grow them into something strong and firmly rooted. “He needed help holding his umbrella.” 

“You don’t look at him the same way you used to.”

Wakatoshi has to consciously relax his jaw, his shoulders. “How do I look now?” 

“You softened.” Kiyoomi says. “That’s what Yaku-san said, anyways. He’s onto something.”

“When did he say that?” 

Kiyoomi is about to speak, but the words don’t leave his mouth. He hangs his head as if in defeat. “During our date. Just the other night.”

Wakatoshi stares blankly at Kiyoomi. 

“We’ve only been on one date, so don’t start assuming shit.” Kiyoomi jabs an accusatory finger into Wakatoshi’s shoulder. 

“How was it?” Wakatoshi says. “The date.” 

Kiyoomi’s chest heaves with his exhale. “He’s absolutely insufferable. I adore him.” 

“What makes you say that?”

His face looks pensive. Focused. “Sometimes you meet someone, and it’s like you have to give them a ten-minute presentation on yourself. Even then, you don’t know if they understand you. But some people don’t need that. They just get it.”

“Hm.” 

“Anyways.” Kiyoomi says. “So you’re close with Shouyou now.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” _I want to be closer_. “But we’re on better terms than we used to be.”

“You must be, if you held hands. What the hell else do you two do?” 

It occurs to Wakatoshi that he could just not answer him, but this is Kiyoomi. Giving no response would come off as more suspicious, and Wakatoshi can’t outright lie for shit. “We’re supposed to get together on Saturday to study.” 

“So you’re not getting any homework done on Saturday.” Kiyoomi says.

“We both have tests we need to study for. They’re important.”

“Sure.”   
  


* * *

  
Wakatoshi and Shouyou do not get any homework done. 

They spend the first fifteen minutes sitting on the floor, skimming through their textbooks, making guesses at which parts are important enough to take notes on them. Shouyou rests his head on Wakatoshi’s arm, and Wakatoshi rests his head on top of Shouyou’s. Despite the stirring in his abdomen, Wakatoshi thinks little of it, tries to focus on reading about connective tissue in the muscles. 

Shouyou lifts his hand to Wakatoshi’s jaw and caresses his cheek, his touch soft, ginger. Wakatoshi leans into it the slightest bit. Shouyou uses his hold to turn Wakatoshi’s face, stroking the corner of his lip with his thumb, and coaxes a slow kiss out of him.

After some fumbling around, Shouyou is sitting in Wakatoshi’s lap, one hand on his shoulder and the other on the nape of his neck, teeth pulling on his upper lip. Wakatoshi pants heavily, searching for air between each kiss. His chest is pressed against Shouyou’s, the tips of his ears singed. Wakatoshi is a melting candle in the light of Shouyou’s adoration.

Shouyou covers Wakatoshi’s cheeks and jaw in kisses, works his way down to his neck. Wakatoshi is entirely immersed in Shouyou until he feels his canines dig just a little too deep into his skin. He winces. 

“Oh, sorry.” Shouyou soothes the area with a small peck. “Got a little carried away there.”

Wakatoshi knows what it is to be needed. But not wanted. Desired. Not to this extent. 

“Hinata-san, why me?”

Shouyou pulls back and looks at Wakatoshi, doe-eyed. “What?” 

He wishes he hadn’t said anything, but he’s here now. “Everybody you know adores you one way or another. Why do you want to spend your time with me specifically?”

“Because I enjoy it.” Shouyou says. “I like being with you.” 

“But why?” Wakatoshi says.

“Do you have to earn it somehow?”

Shouyou’s words impact him like the roof caving in. Their eyes are locked on each other. Tied together with that invisible thread.

He wraps his arms around Wakatoshi’s neck. “You’re a really reliable person, you know.” He says. “You’re a good listener, and you’re always there for people when it matters. But it won’t hurt you to let someone else care for you sometimes.” 

“Is that what you want?” Wakatoshi says. “To care for me?” 

Shouyou leans in close until their foreheads touch. “If you’ll let me.” 

Sitting on the floor with him, his bedroom illuminated by a dim lamp, Wakatoshi’s world feels so small. It is so small and tangible and he wants to wrap his arms around it.

Wakatoshi reclines onto his back and lets Shouyou’s body weight compress him. He allows himself to be observed, body unfurled, muscles relaxed. Shouyou studies with his lips and his hands, searching while he kisses Wakatoshi’s neck. There’s attentiveness in his touch, steadiness in his movements. He takes off Wakatoshi’s shirt, then his own, before analyzing the prominence of Wakatoshi’s collarbones, the curve of his chest, the dip in his sternum, to his heart.  
  


* * *

The morning air is thick with tension, and for once, it has nothing to do with Wakatoshi. 

Reon’s face looks vacant as he hurries through his routine before leaving for classes. He shuts his drawers, closes his textbooks, zips up his bag with more force than usual. 

“Is everything okay, Ohira-san?” Wakatoshi says. 

“I’m fine.” Reon purses his lips. “I’m just tired.”

He sighs deeply. The world sinks with him. Wakatoshi stares, unmoving. 

“Hayato and I broke up last week.” Reon can’t lift his face. “I thought we could make it work, but it’s not worth it anymore.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Wakatoshi says. “Is there anything I can do for you?” 

Reon lifts his bag over his shoulder, adjusts the strap. “Not that I can think of, no. But thanks.”

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything.” 

“It’s not related,” Reon says, “but I copied out a grocery list for anyone who can make it to the store today. I don’t have the time to go myself. Or the energy. But we _really_ need toothpaste.” 

“I can get that.”

With his free time midday, he stops by the grocery store to buy toothpaste, among other things. He notices the selection of bouquets and plants lined up next to the entrance. Ponders them for a moment. 

He thinks of the gerberas from Shouyou’s bouquet. The sunshine of his life. 

Wakatoshi meets his roommates in the cafeteria with an aloe vera plant in hand. Satori has one hand on Reon’s shoulder. Eita sits next to them, engaged in their conversation. Reon’s eyes are red, glazed over. 

“Why didn’t you tell us earlier?” Satori says. “You didn’t have to suffer in silence this whole time.” 

Reon wipes his eyes roughly. “I didn’t want you guys to worry about me. Or hate Hayato. I still want to be friends with him. It’s just hard.” 

They’re quiet for a minute. Wakatoshi is still standing.

“And,” he continues, “I thought if I didn’t say it out loud, it wouldn’t be real. That I could still fix it something, and things would be fine again.”

“Reon-kun, oh my God,” Satori pats his back, “you are a tortured soul.”

“Wakatoshi.” Eita says. “...What are you holding?”

Wakatoshi sits and puts the plant in front of Reon on the table. “I wanted to buy flowers, but I didn’t know which ones you’d like best, so I got you this plant.”

“You bought him an aloe vera plant?” Satori says. “Wakatoshi-kun, this is an emotional injury, not a physical one.” 

Reon takes the plant, looks at it, and sets it beside him. “I think it’s really nice, Wakatoshi. Thank you.” 

“Speaking of which,” Eita says, “sorry I walked in on you and Hinata-san last night. I didn’t realize you’ve been getting action at our apartment while we were gone.” 

Everyone at the table turns to Wakatoshi. The watchful eyes make him stiffen. 

“It’s fine.” He says. “All we did was kiss.”

“ _Kissed_ ?” Satori’s eyes widen cartoonishly. “You _kissed_ him?”

“We’ve done that a few times now.” 

“And you just weren’t gonna say anything?!” 

“No.” 

Satori leans back in his seat. “God, what else do I not know? Anyone else have any secrets they wanna share?” 

“I do.” Eita raises his hand. 

“Not _your_ secrets, Eita-kun.” Satori snaps. “I know most of them, and I wish I didn’t.” 

Wakatoshi’s expression softens. “I didn’t mean to keep my relations with Hinata-san a secret.” 

“That’s okay, Wakatoshi.” Reon sniffles. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” 

_If I didn’t say it out loud, it wouldn’t be real._

It’s very, very real. 

“Hinata-san really did change since high school, didn’t he?” Eita grins. “I thought everyone was exaggerating about that.” 

“Remember how he’d charge into the net to go for a block and run right into the tape?” Satori howls with laughter. “He was a real monster then! Hell, he still is.”

Wakatoshi wants to laugh along. He wants to join them, to be present. It’s like every word he can think of is snatched straight from his throat, rendering him speechless. 

His vision turns to clouded glass.   
  


* * *

  
In his last year of high school, Wakatoshi didn’t want to win the Miyagi prefecture finals. 

He wanted to defeat Shouyou. 

Hinata Shouyou, a bright-eyed first year from former powerhouse team Karasuno, who could run like the wind but didn’t know how the hell to utilize its currents. Hinata Shouyou, with no middle school career to speak of, stared directly into Wakatoshi’s eyes, told him that he’d beat him and go to nationals. He spoke like a prophet of his own divinity. 

After then, Wakatoshi didn’t think about winning, advancing, a national victory in his hands. Only snuffing out Shouyou’s light. 

Shouyou was an amateur and an annoyance to Wakatoshi, confident with no experience or technique to support him. But goddamn, could he persevere. He did not seem to consider losing as an option. No matter what simple thing he screwed up, no matter which way the scoreboard skewed, no matter how many tall players towered above him. Absolutely _nothing_ could crush his spirit. 

Wakatoshi had to cultivate his perseverance, nourish it like a living thing. Utilize it when he wanted to give up or withdraw. Shouyou seemed to produce it in endless quantities.

Wakatoshi couldn’t understand it. And he despised it. 

He spent years building up his power and endurance, and he would go down defending it with every fiber of his being. Wakatoshi certainly wasn’t about to be defeated by a team of crows, the wings of their former glory clipped, and the hot-headed novice around whom they revolved. 

And yet. The winner is the team with the most points. The team that does not let the ball hit the ground. 

Defeat looks like a tilted scale on the scoreboard. The points he couldn’t earn. The sobs of his teammates surrounding him. 

That day, Wakatoshi is less of an athlete, more of a beast, charging recklessly into the mouth of a wildfire. Wholly consumed.  
  


* * *

  
Wakatoshi is awake at three in the morning. His heart pounds in his chest like a mallet. The flood of memories rushes in swiftly, mercilessly—Shouyou’s matches struck against Wakatoshi’s stone, the whole court up in flames. Back when he still had a fighting chance of proving this strength, so precious to him. 

In the end, nothing more than orbiting circles in Shouyou’s atmosphere. 

Wakatoshi holds his forearms in his hands, cradles the memories that sit with him. Holds the strength he had to discard. Every shaky breath is a wordless eulogy. 

A tight knot forms in his throat. He misses it.   
  


* * *

  
Wakatoshi does not sleep a wink that night. Daylight shines on him just the same. 

The sleep deprivation spells itself out on his face, under his eyes. Fatigue settles into his muscles and bones. It refuses to budge. 

Nevertheless, he leaves his apartment. The air outside gets colder and bluer every day. He moves through the day on autopilot, not entirely present in his body, unable to absorb his surroundings. He can’t break the clouded glass that has obstructed his vision since yesterday. 

He’s more awake at practice, although he’s still thinking about the solace and warmth of his bed. Burying himself under the covers. No sunlight to demand his wakefulness. The dim light of one lamp. His small world. 

“Hey there.” Shouyou bumps Wakatoshi’s shoulder, breaking through his trance. “Coach gave me permission to stay a little longer, but I need a partner. You wanna join me?” 

Maybe his bed can wait a little longer. “Yes.” 

It feels like an infinity, waiting for everybody else to leave. Wakatoshi catches Kiyoomi glaring at him on the way out, eyes saying _you’re repulsive,_ something along those lines. Kiyoomi reaches for Morisuke’s hand beside him before the door shuts. 

Despite the emptiness of the gym, towering walls shooting up to high ceilings, Shouyou’s presence takes up the whole room. Slowly, Wakatoshi regains awareness of his environment, the skid of their sneakers, the sound of the ball against their hands and wrists, the whirring fluorescent lights. 

The two of them practice their receiving, sending the ball to each other over the net. Shouyou on the opposite side of the net is a weird sort of comforting sight to Wakatoshi. He reminds himself that he can’t live in that comfort forever. They’re not the rivals that they used to be. 

Hinata Shouyou is not the person that he used to be. 

“Ushiwaka,” Shouyou says, “we’re not friends anymore, are we?”

The ball bounces off the wrong angle of Wakatoshi’s wrist and flies straight at the net. “I thought we were on good terms.” 

“Oh, yeah, we are.” Shouyou runs to catch the ball. “We’re on _very_ good terms, I think.” 

“So something other than friends.”

“Yeah.” 

He can’t bring himself to keep talking about it. If he can keep silent, hold his sentiments in his mouth a little longer, maybe it won’t be real. 

“I mean,” Shouyou fills in the empty spaces in the air, “we’ve kissed a lot and stuff, and I don’t want you to think it doesn’t mean anything to me. You do mean a lot to me.” 

Wakatoshi looks at Shouyou through the net. God, it hurts to look at him when his eyes are so full of sincerity. So luminous.

He can’t bite his tongue anymore. 

“Hinata-san, I’m sorry.” There’s no turning back now. Only persistent forward motion.

“Sorry about what?” Shouyou holds the ball on his hip. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I haven’t been honest with you.” 

Wakatoshi can’t take his eyes off of him. That goddamned invisible thread, their unbreakable connection, always keeping them tied together. 

He takes a deep breath. “When you started coming here and playing for the volleyball team, I still saw you as my opponent. I thought I had to defeat you to feel accomplished. You got so much attention from so many people, and I didn’t understand why.” 

Silence, deafening silence. His ears are ringing. 

“Do you still see me as your opponent?” Shouyou says, his voice soft.

“No.”

“Well, how do you see me now?” 

“Radiant.” 

Shouyou blinks. 

“Everybody who sees you feels your light. There’s no part of you that isn’t shining. You’re really something to behold.” 

It’s like throwing a stone into the glass that has separated Wakatoshi from his reality. Shattered pieces surrounding their feet. The result of his interruption. 

Shouyou can’t contain his smile. “You really think that?” 

Wakatoshi smiles back. “I do.” 

Shouyou is alight with joy. Wakatoshi could bask in it forever. 

“Do you wanna, like, go on a proper date sometime?” Shouyou says. “I feel bad that I haven’t really—”

“Yes.” 

“You don’t even know what it’ll be! What if it ends up being really lame?”

“I’ll still say yes.” 

Shouyou checks the clock on the wall, one that’s so off the current time that it’s a whole process to decode how far ahead it is. “We should probably head out soon.”

“We should.” 

Shouyou rolls the ball off his hip, holds it with both hands. His eyes flicker like sparklers. 

“One more?” 

Wakatoshi prepares his stance, ready to receive. “One more.”

**Author's Note:**

> if u read to the end, thank you thank you thank you. come and yell with me on twt


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